


Linger

by evieeden



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All Human Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieeden/pseuds/evieeden
Summary: Bucky Barnes has always loved Steve Rogers. It's just a shame that he never felt the same way.Written for the 2018 Captain America Reverse Big Bang!





	1. Don't Let It Fade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessoftheworlds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/gifts).



> So here's my Captain America Reverse Big Bang fic this year. I hope you all like it. This is what happens when I try to write fluff - there's so much angst...all the angst!
> 
> Anyway, thanks to princessoftheworld who created the beautiful artwork that was the inspiration for this story. Thanks also to Abbie, who betad this fic for me.
> 
> And thanks for reading :)

 

“I hope you’re going to cut your hair.”

Bucky frowned at the tablet in front of him before turning and quirking an eyebrow towards where Natasha was sat in a make-up artist’s chair.

“What?”

“Your hair. It’s getting on the scruffy-hobo side of long. You should cut it,” she clarified.

He ran a hand through said hair and snorted. “And why would I do that?”

Natasha scowled at the girl approaching with yet another layer of foundation. The girl wisely chose to change course. “Because it’s a wedding – my wedding – and everyone should look their best, including you.”

Right, the wedding. The one he had foolishly agreed to stand up with Natasha for. The reason he was stuck in this salon in the first place, instead of wallowing on the sofa at home.

Bucky eyed himself in one of the salon mirror and scowled at his reflection. “It doesn’t look that bad. Besides, I promised I’d tie it back, didn’t I?”

“You did.” She eyed him critically. “But I think it could stand to be neater. Besides, you look nice with shorter hair.”

Another technician, this one slightly hardier than the other (or maybe she had just met too many out-of-control bridezillas before to be intimidated by scary Russian психи), swung Natasha around in the chair and began liberally applying mascara.

Unfortunately, this meant that the redhead was faced away from him so he couldn’t see her expression when she added, “Steve always thought so.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at the jab, the metal of his prosthetic grinding down onto the arm of the chair he had squeezed himself into when he and Nat had arrived. “What’s… what’s Steve got to do with anything?”

He deliberately didn’t let his voice waver on the name. It was just a name. Nothing overly complicated.

Natasha spun in her chair and gave him an incredulous look. “He’s coming to the wedding, dumbass. I thought you knew that.”

Bucky felt bile welling up in his stomach and he grabbed a bottle of water off the side to try and hide his reaction to the news.

Steve was going to be there. Why hadn’t he realised that until now?

Not that he could hide anything from Natasha anyway – if she couldn’t tell from his trembling hand, then the way she was studying his face indicated that she had seen something there that he didn’t want her to. They sat in endless silence for several minutes and even the make-up artist turned away to give them some privacy.

God. If his reaction to Steve’s name was enough to make random strangers uncomfortable then he would really need to get a grip on himself before he saw the actual man.

Natasha was still watching him so he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Steve? Really? Wow. I forgot that he would be there.”

“Uh huh.” If her tone was anything to go on, then Bucky was clearly not doing casual as well as he would like.

“Yeah,” he continued, “I guess I forgot he was going to be there. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.” His mouth was running away from him. “It’ll be great to catch up after…”

“James. Stop.”

His mouth slammed shut.

Natasha was giving him that look that he hated – the same one she gave him the day he found out that he had lost his arm after the accident. He could take pity and looks and sneers from everyone else, but not her. He couldn’t bear it from her.

“Nat…”

She ran her eyes over him carefully. “You really haven’t spoken to each other?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and laughed awkwardly. “He lives in DC, Nat, and I live here in New York. When would we get the chance to speak to each other?”

The look she gave him clearly questioned his intelligence. “There’s an amazing new invention nowadays. It’s called the cell phone. You can talk to anyone anywhere you like around the world.” She reclined back in her chair. “I know you have one; Stark was going on about how generous he was giving you the latest model from his range.”

Bucky frowned. “And did he tell you that he had to give me a new one because I crushed the last one accidentally?” He gave a baleful glance towards his metallic prosthetic.

“Semantics,” Natasha waved off his annoyance like it was nothing. He could feel his temper brewing.

“No. Not semantics, Natalia. It’s just another reminder on a very long list of how fucked up everything is and how I can’t stop screwing everything up.” He chewed on his lip, willing himself not to say anything more. It was bad enough that he’d started to lose his temper, let alone admit what the actual problem was. A small hand crept into his and squeezed.

“Hey.” She threaded her fingers through his. “Hey, James… Bucky!”

He rubbed a hand briskly across his face. For fuck’s sake, he was hitting all of his sore spots today – the arm, the accident, Steve…

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re not screwing things up.” She gripped his hand more tightly. “And if you don’t want to talk to Steve, then you don’t have to talk to Steve. It’s up to you. It’s all up to you, милая. No-one’s going to force you to do anything.”

She sat holding his hand while he sniffed and stared at the floor and tried really hard not to burst into tears. God knows, that would make his humiliation complete. Thank God for Nat and the fact that she had the patience of a saint.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed to eke out. “I’m sorry for screwing up your appointment.”

“You haven’t screwed up anything.” Natasha cast an imperious look around the salon. “Besides, this is just a consultation.” She nudged his shoulder. “Although if you screw up my make up with your dramatics on the actual day, I will kill you where you stand.”

“Agreed.” He tried to laugh, but the sound was small and pathetic. “I’ll leave the dramatics to you and Clint then.”

“Damn right you will,” she retorted smartly, giving his hand one last squeeze.

The make-up artist appeared from nowhere, like she had a sixth-sense for when all the emotional bullshit was over, and got back to work on Natasha’s face.

Bucky sat quietly, trying to gather his thoughts. He must have drifted for a while, because when he blinked again, Natasha was over the other side of the salon, speaking to woman in a white coat, gesturing forcefully, and her face was stripped of all but her normal make-up again. He staggered to his feet, grabbing his coat and sliding it on as he headed towards her.

“All done?”

“Pretty much.” Natasha hooked her arm through his and steered him towards the door. “I’ve got to come back once more and then I’m set.”

The blast of cold air as they emerged onto the street stole his breath away and Bucky hunched further into his jacket. “Excited?” he asked.

Natasha hummed, as they strolled towards where she had left her car. “I’ll be excited when it’s all organised and I’m in my dress ready to get married,” she decided.

Bucky jumped as her cold finger slid past three layers of clothing to jab into his side, sniggering at his yelp of shock.

“I’d be a lot more excited though if you cut your hair.”

Bucky sighed. He briefly considered standing his ground, but he knew what would happen. Natasha would start, then Clint would get involved and the next thing you know he would have Pepper, Tony’s…something…, on the phone, booking him into an appointment with some hairstylist who would charge more than he paid for rent for a simple cut.

“If I promise to cut my hair, will you stop nagging me?”

She considered it. “Maybe.”

It was a good a deal as he was going to get. “Done.”

Natasha smiled. “How about the scruff?”

“Drop it.”

She shrugged, unrepentant. “It was worth a go.”

They reached the car and headed back to his place so she could drop him off before collecting Clint from wherever he had wandered off to as part of his job this weekend.

Just as he was about to get out of the car, she placed a restraining hand on his leg, stopping him.

“Look, James.” His insides chilled all over again at her serious tone. “I don’t know what happened between you and Steve. No-one knows what happened between you and Steve, because you’re a stubborn asshole who won’t tell anyone and he’s…” She clenched her teeth with an audible clack and swallowed heavily before beginning again. “James, all any of us know is that one day, you two were best… and the next…” She shook her head. “You said you didn’t want to see him again. You moved, just left, and I know you were still in the city, but we didn’t see you or know where you were.”

Bucky looked away guiltily. He knew he had hurt Natasha’s feelings when he had left abruptly, but at the time, it had seemed like the best – no, the only – option he had left before he fucked absolutely everything in his life up and not just his relationships with the people he…

“Steve’s coming to the wedding,” Natasha continued, “and I’d like you to get along, whatever happened.” She stared resolutely out the front window, a tremor in her voice. “I just don’t want you to decide to go away and become a hermit again for a year without any of us again.”

“Oh, Natashenka.”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Bucky leaned across the car and gathered her into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He kissed the crown of her head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make nice with Stevie, promise.”

Natasha drew back. “You really promise?”

“Sure,” he forced himself to smile, “we’ll be getting along great again in no time.”

Natasha frowned. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right.” Bucky smiled again, this time a little more genuinely, and it must have worked because Natasha seemed back to her usual self by the time she drove off again.

Bucky let himself back into his flat and collapsed onto the sofa, free to bury his head into his hands now that there was nobody watching.

Getting along with Steve Rogers again while trying to hide how he felt about him.

“Fuck!”


	2. You Know I'm Such a Fool For You

Bucky had first met Steve when he was six years old and he came across Steve sniffing and trying to wipe away his tears in an alleyway next to his apartment block when he went to take out the trash. The younger boy – only by a year, Steve liked to remind him – had been sat clinging to an ugly, ginger cat, that belonged to one of his neighbours, with scrapes on his hand and a nasty-looking cut on one cheek.

Bucky had taken one look, plopped himself down on the filth-covered ground and wrapped an arm around the smaller boy, coaxing him into sharing the story of how a bigger boy, one of the Walkers, had been throwing stones at Mrs Huntsfield’s cat and how that wasn’t right, so Steve had said something and then the boy had thrown a stone at him and he fell over. Bucky had huffed and puffed and then told Steve that he was an idiot for picking a fight with an older boy. He had also declared that Steve clearly needed someone to look for him and that since Bucky was on the lookout for a best friend – his mom made him play with his little sister, but she was so boring – Steve might as well be that friend.

They had left the cat with a grateful, but bewildered Mrs Huntsfield, and then Bucky had carted Steve first to his home and then Steve’s to let their parents know that he and Steve were now best friends. Bucky’s mom had smiled at them both and pinched Steve’s cheeks. Steve’s had looked bewildered, warned Steve about going too far from home again, and then accepted the fact that her son had turned up hand in hand with another child who had gleefully announced their friendship.

They stuck together through thick and thin, despite the fact that Bucky had a quick temper and Steve an overdeveloped sense of injustice. Whatever Bucky did, he knew that Steve would be right there, cheering him on. They spent more time together than apart, tearing around Brooklyn, and they spent so much time running between each other’s homes that their parents barely blinked at all at having an extra child at the dinner table.

And Bucky loved having Steve as a best friend.

Sure, he was smaller than everyone else and sometimes he got out of breath easily when they played games or ran up the stairs too quickly. Sure, he didn’t always want to go outside and play superheroes or chase or baseball, but wanted to sit inside drawing instead. Sure, he got into an increasing number of fights as he got older when other kids were mean to him or someone else, fights that Bucky inevitably had to drag him out of or finish for him.

But he was Bucky’s best friend.

He was there for him the day Peter Madison accidentally hit Bucky across the face with a baseball bat at school and Bucky had sat there stunned while Steve shooed and harassed the other kids away so that nobody saw when the pain began to register and he cried. He was there the first time Bucky held a girl’s hand and then immediately ran to tell him all about it. He was there when Bucky had haltingly confessed when he was 14 that he didn’t think he just liked girls, but that he might possibly maybe like boys too. The relief and gratitude Bucky had felt at the time had overwhelmed him and he had clung as tightly as possible to the smaller boy.

Then puberty had hit Bucky like a truck and one day he woke up strong and tall and – if he did say so himself – relatively good-looking, given the interest he was suddenly getting from the girls at school. Natasha had been one of his very first girlfriends – the scary but hot transfer student from Russia with red hair and a glare that could wilt the balls off any young Romeo in her vicinity. Their adolescent romance had ended in death threats and an odd antagonistic friendship that worked for them but baffled everyone around them and Steve, who had been somewhat distant from Bucky while he and Natasha were dating, was also drawn into the fold.

Bucky had never really considered it at the time, but looking back he could understand how everyone had assumed that he and Steve were… well, he and Steve, way before anything actually happened. Or didn’t happen.

The changes that adolescence had wrought in Bucky, however, had skipped Steve altogether. He was still as short and slender as ever, with pale skin, a multitude of health issues and hands and a voice that didn’t seem to match his slight physique. At 17 though, his mother had sent him to a specialist and within the course of a year, Steve had shot up in height and was beginning to pack on muscle. He never quite got used to being bigger though and Bucky had laughed more than once, although never unkindly, at his ungainly friend’s clumsiness.

Steve’s new appearance did have one unforeseen consequence though.

Up till that moment, Bucky had been able to dismiss any…untoward…feelings towards him as being the devoting love and respect of a best friend…of family. Steve’s improved health meant that all those things that Bucky had noticed and admired about his friend beforehand – his long fingers gripping a pencil as they sketched, his unruly golden hair, his blue eyes and strong jaw – all appeared more striking now that Steve was flushed with good health. He made Bucky’s stomach twist uncomfortably whenever he saw him. Every time though Bucky reminded himself that Steve was his best friend, that he was lucky to have him, and that Steve had never shown any kind of proclivity towards… anyone.

Over time it just became easier for Bucky to push the attraction to the back of his mind. Of course he was attracted to Steve. He was the best person Bucky knew and it wasn’t hard for him to see why he would be attracted to him in _that_ way.

He didn’t think Steve ever noticed how he would look at him sometimes for just that little bit too long, and on those rare occasions where Steve caught him staring, he would just smile at Bucky like he was the funniest ever and then go back to whatever he was doing.

Bucky never caught him looking back though and that, more than anything, told him he was making the right decision in keeping his mouth shut.

Occasionally, he thought that Natasha knew how he felt towards Steve, but she never said anything, just gave him suspicious looks every now and then.

But then, Natasha looked deeply suspicious of most things. She wasn’t naturally very trusting by nature.

College came and went – Steve going to Columbia to study art and Bucky to MIT for engineering – and along the way picked up a ragtag group of friends. Natasha stayed in New York with Steve and gained a place in the New York Ballet, which she never talked about but was fiercely proud of. Steve met and made friends with Sam and Clint, and although Bucky was jealous of both of them the first few times he heard Steve talking enthusiastically about them, after meeting them he was just happy that Steve had found someone on his wavelength.

Bucky, on the other hand, hadn’t become friends with Tony, but rather had been adopted into the Stark family with no warning or choice, given that he was one of two people on his course not appropriately awed by the other man’s family, connections or money. If there was one thing Tony loved more than himself, it was other people not giving a shit.

After college, he and Steve moved into a tiny flat together, despite Tony’s protests that he could house everyone at his family’s mansion. It was an amazing time for both of them, despite the fact that every other day their boiler stopped working and they were doused with cold water in the shower.

The only cloud on Bucky’s otherwise bright horizon was Peggy.

She and Steve had met during his last year of college and quickly – for Steve anyway – had become a couple, Steve’s first serious girlfriend.

Bucky was happy for him. If Steve was happy with Peggy, then Bucky was happy that Steve was with Peggy.

If only he could’ve stopped feeling insanely jealous.

Watching Peggy disappear with Steve most nights into his room was painful and Bucky spent many nights lying in bed, teeth gritted, cursing himself for not saying something to Steve while he had the chance. Not that it would have made a difference, but he liked to think it would’ve. Bucky would never admit it to himself, but he retaliated by going out and hooking up with anyone who caught his eye.

In the end it was Tony who confronted him after walking into their apartment just as one of Bucky’s latest conquests was leaving.

“So Bucky. Bucky Bear. Buckaroo.” Tony wandered around the flat, picking up anything that caught his eye and then setting it down again. “Not that I’m one to judge, although I’m totally judging here, but don’t you think you’re taking this lecherous lothario thing a bit too far?”

Bucky glared from where he had collapsed on the sofa after letting Tony in. “You’re one to talk.”

Tony shrugged unconcerned. “Whatever. I’m a hypocrite. But I’m not the one in love with my best friend.”

Bucky froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh. And if I was half an oblivious as I pretend to be, I would totally believe that.” Tony jabbed him in the side with a wooden spoon he had found from somewhere. “You’re in love with Steve. You’ve been pining for years. I would say it’s pathetic, if you weren’t so earnest about your devotion.”

Bucky covered his face with his arm, his cheeks burning.

“Come on, Bucko.” Tony prodded him again. “I know it, you know it, everyone knows it.”

Bucky shot up. “Everyone?”

“Well,” Tony waved a dismissive hand, “I’m fairly certain Barton’s as clueless as usual, but I know and I’m fairly sure that Romanoff and Wilson know too if the looks they’ve been giving you and Steve are any indication.”

Buck groaned.

Tony decided to avoid all appearances of subtlety and came around the sofa to sit on top of him. “So given that your hidden romance is not so hidden, what are you going to do about it?”

Bucky turned over as best he could with the engineer sat on top of him and squinted up. “Don’t you have a company to run or something?” he tried to change the subject.

Tony waved away the mention of Stark Industries, which he had inherited in his third year of collage following his parents’ deaths in a plane crash. “Pepper’s completely on top of it all.”

Bucky had no doubt that Pepper was. Tony was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch to have her walk through his office door with a question about a project and immediately take charge of him when she saw the chaos he was managing to create by ignoring his phone and board for weeks. She had whipped his office into order and then done the same to him as well.

“Well, don’t you have something to go invent then?”

Tony leaned over Bucky, his elbow digging into Bucky’s side. “Why are you avoiding the topic?”

Bucky huffed, but bowed to the inevitable. “Because there’s nothing to say. Regardless of whatever I feel towards… There’s no point thinking about it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s straight for one. He’s with Peggy for another.”

Tony blew a raspberry. “If you think that boy’s as straight as they come, you’re mistaken. You’re practically a couple in all but name. And you think he wouldn’t ditch her as quick as he can for you if you told him.”

Bucky frowned. “Steve wouldn’t…”

“Okay, you’re right. He wouldn’t.” Tony kicked Bucky’s legs out of the way and wriggled onto the sofa properly. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to know all his options. You’re killing yourself here.”

Bucky closed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re miserable.”

Bucky shrugged and Tony was quiet for a minute.

“The way you look at him sometimes,” he began, “is how you’ve always looked at him, for years before Peggy even came along. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like her…a lot. But he looks at you too. The same way.” Tony paused, clearly waiting for a reaction.

Bucky didn’t have one to give him. It was too much to hope, especially knowing what he did.

“He’s leaving,” he spat out. “With Peggy. He’s going away.”

He opened his eyes to see Tony’s incredulous expression. “What do you mean he’s leaving?”

“I mean he’s leaving.” Bucky kicked at Tony and then sat up, resting against the arm of the sofa. He picked at the hem of his sweatpants. “Peggy’s got a job offer in DC and yesterday he received a letter for an interview up there. He never even said anything about applying. He’s going with her, Tony. There’s no point.”

Tony didn’t say anything else. He could clearly tell that anything he did say was going to fall on deaf ears.

It wasn’t as though Bucky wouldn’t love for Tony to be right, for Steve to think as highly of him as he did of Steve, but it was a fool’s hope and not worth daydreaming over.

The day Steve announced that he had received a job offer from the National Gallery of Art, Bucky had summoned every bit of will he had ever had when it came to squashing down his feelings and had hugged Steve and toasted him along with the others. They had celebrated into the middle of the night with their friends and if everyone limited their teasing of what he would do without his best friend anymore, well, he would pretend not to notice that they saw his feelings more clearly than he ever would’ve liked.

He downed drink after drink, ignoring Natasha’s worried looks and Tony’s over the top antics, then left early.

He didn’t see the expression on Steve’s face when he left. He didn’t really see anything on the walk home, stumbling miserably down the road towards their block.

The only thing that even registered was the squealing of brakes nearby and a flash of bright, blinding light before everything went black.


	3. I Just Want To Be With You

The day before the wedding Bucky woke up with a headache. Stumbling out of bed, he staggered into the bathroom and ran the tap, sloshing water over his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eye. Critically, he looked at his reflection.

As much as he hated to admit it, Natasha was right. The shorter hair – not too short, mind – really did make him look better, healthier, not quite like a homeless hobo anymore. The bags under his eyes… He would take what he could get. Despite Natasha’s nagging, he had refused to shave his beard although he had conceded to trim it.

She was determined to make him look presentable and even though he complained about the rigmarole he was going through, he was grateful for her badgering. The vain part of him wanted to make sure he was looking his best.

A part of him didn’t know why he was bothering. It wasn’t like Steve was going to see him looking good in his carefully chosen (by Natasha and Tony – he wasn’t allowed to even touch his closet) outfit and immediately fall at his feet, as nice as that daydream was. He wasn’t interested before – no matter what Tony said and especially after what Bucky had said – so why he would be interested now, Bucky didn’t know. He was probably still with Peggy and everything. Now there was a power couple if he ever did see one.

But the vain part, the part of him that used to take pride in his appearance – slicking his hair back, working out at the gym and dressing up sharply – wanted to make an impact. Preferably a good one.

He guessed he was lucky that the weight of the arm meant that he had to maintain his muscle mass in order to maintain his balance. It meant that he wasn’t in bad shape.

Cleaning up as quickly as he could, he pulled on his official day-before-the-wedding clothes that Nat had allocated him and made his way downstairs for breakfast. When Natasha and Clint had first announced that they were getting married, Tony had immediately volunteered the mansion as their wedding venue. It was a beautiful property, even though Tony hated it for reasons he wouldn’t disclose, and as he walked towards the kitchen, he could see an army of workers outside erecting what looked like a marquee.

Everyone else who had stayed over the night before was already in the kitchen: Natasha and Pepper were hunched over a clipboard at one end of the island, Tony looked like he was dosing his morning smoothie with a shot of whisky, Clint, also dressed his chosen ‘wedding appropriate’ clothes, was idly drumming on the counter with a pair of knives and across from them all, flipping what looked like twenty pieces of bacon on the grill was…

“Steve.”

Everything came to a halt as everyone turned towards him and Steve. One of the knives Clint was holding clattered to the floor.

Steve was…

Well, not to be too shallow, but Steve was ripped.

All that gangly promise had somehow transformed into 6 foot of solid muscle. His hair was still on the longish side, but was now accompanied by a beard. Despite that all, his eyes still shone when he turned to Bucky and his smile still made his smile skip a beat.

“Bucky.” He abandoned the bacon, ignoring Clint’s whimper. “It’s good to see you; you’re looking great.”

And then Bucky was enfolded in a hug. The best hug in the world.

And although he and Steve hadn’t seen each other for four years, although the last time they saw each other Bucky had said some things he now regretted, although Steve may or may not be angry with him later, for now, he was hugging him and it was wonderful.

The sound of a shutter clicking pulled him out of his Steve-daze and he stepped back to find Tony lowering his cell and offering an unapologetic shrug. It was like a shot had rung out and Bucky immediately shrank back into himself.

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“What? I’m waiting for bacon.”

Steve huffed but returned to the stove with a suppressed smile, seemingly unbothered by Bucky’s appearance.

The walls seemed to close in on him and with a muttered, “Excuse me,” he turned and practically ran away, pretending he didn’t hear Steve calling out his name.

Bucky was a wimp. He wasn’t afraid to admit it.

He spent the rest of the morning moving around the property ‘helping out’ and trying his best to avoid both Steve and Natasha. The latter caught up with him briefly when he was helping set out flower arrangements, but didn’t say anything, just hit him in the kidneys and then stalked off before he could make his excuses.

His luck ran out around lunchtime though when he ducked into the walled courtyard and took a break on a bench underneath some cherry blossoms.

“I brought you a sandwich.”

“Jesus, Steve.” He just about jumped out of his skin. “Warn a guy when you’re about to sneak up on him.”

“I called your name,” Steve replied equanimously, “I thought you might be hungry.” He sat down on the edge of the bench and place a plate between them.

“Thanks.” Bucky slumped down in the seat.

They sat in silence, but it wasn’t how it used to be. Before they could sit for hours together silently, not doing anything apart from looking up and smiling once in a while, just happy to be in each other’s company. This was comfortable silence. This was the awkward silence of strangers who don’t have enough in common to carry a conversation.

It was excruciating, and this, more than anything else, suddenly made Bucky feel like he wanted to cry.

He missed Steve.

Not missed him like he wanted to be in a relationship with him, although that would be nice.

He missed his friend and suddenly it was really important that Steve knew that, that he knew Bucky still cared… even if he didn’t feel the same way.

“I missed you.” Bucky clamped his mouth shut as soon as he’d said it.

Steve sighed and gave a sad, sort of half smile. “I missed you too, Buck.” He looked like he was going to say something but then leaned forward and put his head in his heads.

Bucky didn’t know what do or say. So he settled for inane conversation. “You look good. The beard really… it’s good…you look good.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Thanks. You too.”

“Better than I was anyway.”

“Bucky…” Steve paused and Bucky knew this was it, knew he’d have to hash it out with Steve once and for all. Well, either that or run, but he wasn’t sure Natasha would forgive him if he did that, especially as he’d promised to at least explain what was going on. “Buck, what happened? Why did you send me away? I would’ve stayed, you know I would have. And I thought I would give you the evening to sort yourself out – I know we were all confused and emotional at the time – but I came back the next day and you were gone. You were just gone.” He seemed to run out of steam then and stilled.

Bucky felt his stomach twist. Here it was. Now or never.

“I left because you would have stayed.”

Steve frowned, confused. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Of course I would’ve have stayed. Buck, you were my best friend.” Bucky winced at the use of past tense. “You had just had a terrible thing happen to you. I wasn’t just going to leave.”

“I know. That was the problem.”

Steve raised his head to look at him, really look at him, his eyes bright, his face twisted in confusion and it was suddenly very clear to Bucky just how much he had fucked up.

“I left… I made you go… because you would have stayed with me, Steve,” he explained haltingly. “You would have been there the whole time and I was… I wanted you to go with Peggy to DC. I wanted you to have that because you’d worked so hard for the job, with her, and you were just going to throw it all again because of your cripple of a best friend.” It was all coming out now; he’d started talking and now it felt like he couldn’t stop. “I didn’t want that, Stevie. I didn’t want you there. I didn’t want anyone there. I wasn’t happy.”

That was an understatement, if he’d ever heard one. He’d been miserable, utterly depressed.

From the moment he’d woken up in the hospital to the news – delivered by an impassive doctor with Steve hovering worriedly at the bottom of his bed – that there’d been a bad car accident and unfortunately the damage to his left arm was so severe that they’d had to remove his left arm it had been downhill all the way.

He lashed out at everyone, his friends, his family, his doctors, and Steve was the only one who’d gritted his teeth and stuck out Bucky’s mood swings.

It had been hard for him to hear that he wasn’t going to be able to go back to his job anytime soon, but instead was in for a round of painful surgeries, physiotherapy and rehabilitation. It had been hard for him to just do simple things that he was used to doing every day, like buttoning his pants or shirts. Just moving around was painful half the time and as his frustration and pain grew with every set back or failure, so did his temper. He threw things. He screamed. He sat in the bath tub crying and telling Steve, who was waiting outside, pleading to be let in so he could help Bucky, that he wanted to just die instead of carry on like this.

It wasn’t a time of his life that Bucky liked to reflect on or was particularly proud of.

Finally, he had some good news. Stark Industries were considering getting into neural-linked prosthetics and he had been selected for their program. He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was all Tony – who he hadn’t seen apart from one brief visit during his first stay in hospital – especially given that this wasn’t something the company had even shown an interest in before. He was booked into a clinic to begin the process within the next couple of days and couldn’t wait to tell Steve.

Except Steve came back that day with the news that Peggy was moving up to Washington the next week. He then proceeded to ignore this bombshell in favour of being supportive of Bucky’s new opportunity and started talking about what he and Bucky needed to get done for his physio and doctors’ appointments that week before they went to the clinic.

He had looked tired in that moment and Bucky had felt a shaft of guilt hit him at Steve making plans to help him while not helping himself.

“You were going to stay with me at the clinic while I sorted myself out, Stevie. You were going to stay.”

“Of course I was going to stay, Buck,” Steve interrupted. “You needed help and…”

“Stevie.” Bucky held up a hand and Steve stopped talking. “You were going to stay with me when Peggy was moving and you were meant to move too and you were going to lose your job. You worked _so_ hard for that job. And you were just going to give it up, give it all up for me…and I just couldn’t…”

He reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand. It was selfish of him to want comfort in that moment, but then he had always been selfish when it came to Steve. Steve didn’t hold his hand back, but he didn’t pull it out of Bucky’s hand either, which he was relieved about.

“I love you, Steve, and I didn’t want you to give it all up for me.” Bucky didn’t notice Steve stilling besides him. “It wasn’t fair to you. Who knew how long it would’ve taken for the treatment to last and I knew you were excited to start somewhere new with Peggy. But then you were just prepared to leave it all about come with me.”

“Of course I was,” Steve interjected quietly. “You needed me, Buck. I would’ve done anything for you.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” Bucky was starting to get frustrated again and he pulled away from Steve, standing up. “I wanted you to have everything you wanted and you were just going to give it all up for me.” He ran a hand through his hair fretfully. “And I know you were prepared to stay and would’ve…”

He thought about what would’ve happened if Steve had stayed. It would have made the process of getting his arm fitted and learning how to use it better – to have someone with him who cared, to have someone sit with him on the days when his nerves were screaming in pain and he felt like he would rattle out of his own skin. But he also thought about that tired look in Steve’s eyes when he was trying to sort Bucky’s life out for him and when he announced that Peggy couldn’t hold off her employers anymore and was having to move up to DC pretty much straight away. It made him feel sick.

Steve was still watching him beseechingly.

“I… I just didn’t want you to resent me. And you would have in the end,” he hurried, cutting off Steve’s immediate protest. “You would have and I just couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want you to end up hating me.”

There it was. Everything he hadn’t said. In a weird way he was relieved to have gotten it all out, to give Steve the explanation he should have gotten four years ago. It was almost like a weight had been lifted off his chest after so long. Except…

“You told me that I needed to go to Washington and be with Peggy.”

Well, except _that_.

“You told me you were sick of us all hanging around you, staying with you just because you were a cripple and we all felt guilty about it.” Steve was staring at the ground, his jaw clenched, his fists curled up.

Shit!

“You said that you didn’t want me to come with you to the clinic, that you didn’t want me around anymore pulling sad faces at you and that it would be better for everyone if I just went so you could heal in peace,” Steve’s tone barely hid his frustration and hurt. “And I thought that you didn’t mean it, you were just feeling sore and we were getting cabin fever from spending too much time together. So I went to Peggy’s for a few nights and when I came back Tony told me that you’d already left for the clinic, but asked him not to tell me where you’d gone.”

Bucky felt shame, that same shame he had felt at the time, wash over him. “I did say and do that. I’m so sorry.” There was nothing else really he could say. He’d behaved shockingly, then and later on.

Steve laughed, but it was an ugly sound. “Did you know that Peggy broke up with me in Washington?”

Bucky’s fidgeting stilled.

“Not long after we got there actually.” Steve finally looked up and Bucky would’ve given anything not to put that expression on his face. “We’re still friends, still love each other, but she said she wasn’t prepared to compete for me with you.”

Bucky couldn’t compute. “What?” He sat back down.

Steve seemed to gather himself. “Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since I was 8 years old. I guess she could tell, even though I tried to push it to one side. I guess I thought I could just… love both of you at the same time.” He shook his head derisively. “Obviously not.”

Bucky’s heart leapt in his throat. Steve had said love.

Unless he didn’t mean it like Bucky wanted him to mean it. It wasn’t like this was the first time they had told each that they loved one another.

He thought that this time might be the first that they both meant it the same way.

“God, I’m such an idiot.” Steve rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you… I mean…” He paused, not really knowing how to continue. “You said you love me.”

Thinking back, Bucky recalled it slipping out. He had an opportunity here. He could lie and hopefully Steve would forgive him and then they could maybe go back to being the friends that always were, like nothing had changed. Or, he could tell the truth, hope Steve would forgive him and maybe see if they could start anew differently.

Start something better.

“I did.”

He waited. The sky didn’t cave it and brimstone didn’t begin raining down on him. However, Steve didn’t say anything either, just carried on looking at Bucky with an inscrutable expression Bucky had never seen before on his face.

He felt compelled to carry on talking. “I just… If you could forgive me, that’s all I want. It’s all I want. But I’ve loved you for so long. So long.”

Steve frowned. “You regret what you did?”

This was trickier, but Bucky had promised himself to be honest so honest he would be.

“Yes and no.” He could feel his breaths coming quicker. “I regret telling you to go and how you said it, but… I needed the time, Steve. I needed to wallow and feel sorry for myself and have everything not be okay for a while, because everything wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay.” His words came faster. “And if you think I was a rude bastard before, let me tell you, it got so much worse.” He took a deep breath to try and steady himself. Then another. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, especially not you.”

He knelt in front of Steve, needing to see his face, needing him to know that he meant what he said.

“I don’t regret that. I can’t. But I do regret the way I got you to leave and I regret the way I’ve treated you since. Please.”

Steve studied his face carefully and then pulled him into a tight hug so vigorously the forgotten plate clattered to the floor.

They broke apart with awkward laughs.

“So, am I forgiven?” Bucky asked lightly, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.

Steve tugged him towards him with a rough hand on the back of his neck and kissed his forehead. “You’re forgiven. This time anyway.”

Bucky nodded seriously.

“Please, just don’t- next time just talk to me please,” Steve requested stuttering, his wide eyes searching Bucky’s almost frantically. “Promise.”

That was one thing Bucky could do. “I promise.”

“Okay. Okay.” Steve stood up and held up a hand for Bucky to take, pulling him up easily. “Come on. I’ll make you some more lunch.” He steered him back towards the house.

Bucky tripped along next to him, happy beyond words. Steve might be treating this like it was nothing, but it wasn’t, it was everything.

And Steve had said that he loved him. He _loved_ him. He loved _him_.

“Steve,” he poked him before slinging an arm around his waist. “You said you loved me.”

Steve retaliated by drawing him into a noogie, making Bucky squawk. “I did. And you said you loved me too.”

Bucky pulled away from him. “I did.” He stopped Steve with a hand on his arm and spun to face him. “I meant it too.”

Carefully, in case Steve suddenly changed his mind, Bucky leaned in to kiss him.

It wasn’t the most amazing of kisses – their noses bumped and Bucky didn’t know where to put his hands and he accidentally bit Steve’s lip at one point – but they broke away smiling.

Bucky floated through the rest of the day. Even the others’ catcalls and Natasha’s “Thank fuck, finally!” couldn’t put a damper on his high.

Sure, he and Steve still had a lot to talk about and things weren’t in anyway completely settled between them, but they were together.

They were together and they were talking and Bucky loved Steve so much and Steve said that he loved Bucky.

Bucky felt like he could live off that for a good long while. When they got all dolled up for the rehearsal dinner and Bucky caught Steve eyeing him up in his tux, his eyes shining brightly, his smile wide, Bucky thought maybe Steve could as well.

And that was enough for him.


End file.
